


throw those curtains wide

by somehowunbroken



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, Disabled Character, Fluff, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships, romantic relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Mitch is the newest member of the Leafs' PR team, tasked with making the team attractive to young fans. Enter Zach Hyman, renowned local children's book author.





	throw those curtains wide

**Author's Note:**

> -this is how this fic happened, more or less.  
> me, friday night, about 11:45: hey ari what if i wrote this silly thing lol  
> ari: you have to write that for valentine's day, though  
> me: you're right, i do! it'll be short! i can just write like 5k over the next few days and be done with it!  
> me, tuesday night, 12k later: and this is why i don't get to guess my word count anymore.
> 
> huge shoutout to ari and dean for beta reading this. any mistakes remaining are for sure the fault of my keyboard, which has decided to mostly stop accepting it when i type certain letters. challenge mode activated.
> 
>  **notes:** this story has a main character with a disability. it portrays that disability as accurately as i could render it happening in the span of 12k. if you need any specific warnings, ask me on tumblr or twitter and i will tell you more, or skip to the end notes for a general warning.
> 
> title is from elbow's "[one day like this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCJ7keVBj6Y)," because there are only about four love songs that i believe in, but that's one of them.

Mitch looks himself in the mirror one more time before heading out the door. Impeccable suit, check; normal boring cufflinks, check; tie that may or may not be his lucky Leafs tie, check. His shoes look as good as they can, he's got his personal phone and his work phone shoved into the inside pocket in his jacket, and his TTC card is in his wallet, tucked in right next to his work phone. He nods and gives himself a thumbs-up, then grabs his cane and heads out.

He really, really didn't think that this would be the fulfilment of his childhood dream to be part of the Leafs, but injury will do that to you, Mitch thinks for the hundredth time as he locks his door and heads for the elevator. He'd always dreamed about lacing up his skates and pulling on a jersey, jostling with Bozak and van Riemsdyk and Kadri, but a nasty slash to the knee that caused a feet-first slam into the boards had derailed it pretty solidly. Mitch is just glad he'd had a support system by that point, his family and guys on his team and guys on other teams who had made it bearable, because being sixteen and hearing "you'll be lucky to walk again, Mr. Marner, but it would take a miracle for you to skate" could have been the worst news of his life without it.

Or, like. It _was_ the worst news of his life, but between his brother and, of all people, Dylan Strome, Mitch pulled himself through his recovery and managed to finish high school with decent enough grades to get into college. And then he took college by storm, thanks very much, and he'd wrangled internship after internship with every waking moment, and now here he is: an actual adult living in an actual apartment (with a roommate, okay, he's not quite That Adult yet) with an actual job with the actual Toronto Maple Leafs.

Mitch gets on the GO train with the least amount of difficulty he can and pulls out his phone. _Made the train,_ he texts. _Omw in! Pls pet roger for me when u drag ur ass out of bed. Also send pics I miss her already!!!_

He gets a text back a few minutes later. It's a photo of Roger, face too close to the camera, and the look on her face is way, way too innocent to be believed. _She misses u too. She poked me very gently in the face until i woke up,_ Dylan texts. _U have the neediest cat istg_

 _Like father like adorable baby kitten!!!!!_ Mitch texts back, adding a few cat emojis for emphasis. Honestly, Mitch couldn't have scripted it better post-accident: he works for the Leafs, he still gets to hang around with the players even if it's not how he thought he would, and he lives with his best friend and his adorable cat. It was almost surreal to see the Coyotes decide on Lawson Crouse at the draft, because it meant that Dylan fell to fourth overall and the Leafs, but in the time it took Mitch to graduate college, Dylan cemented himself a spot as the Leafs' second line centre behind _Auston freaking Matthews,_ and yeah, okay. Mitch pinches himself some days. It's all a lot.

His phone buzzes again. _SHE IS STARVING MITCHELL_ stares back at him, followed shortly by a video of Roger sitting next to her food bowl screaming her head off while Dylan mutters in the background about how there's still _food_ in her bowl, jesus, can't she calm down for half a second.

Mitch grins, wide and happy, and pockets his phone as his stop comes up.

It's gonna be a great first day.

-0-

Officially, Mitch's title is "Junior Media Relations Coordinator." It basically means that he gets to hang around and interject ideas during team meetings, and they let him run the team Snapchat more because none of the rest of them know how to do it than because it's part of his job description. He does his best, and by the time training camp is over, he's been given an assignment.

"How do I make the team more appealing to kids?" he calls as he walks into his apartment after work. He stops and leans his cane against the wall, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it in the hall closet. He's not looking forward to the cold snap they're supposed to have next week or the winter that's going to settle in after it; they're gonna have to figure out how to make the closet thing work with Mitch's work jackets and their winter gear, and also, his knee seizes a lot when it's too cold. Winter sucks, basically, but those are problems for Future Mitch.

"I don't know, come rescue me," Dylan yells from the living room. "Roger's in a mood."

"Aw, Roger," Mitch croons, and is immediately rewarded with an inquisitive meow and the sound of thirteen pounds of cat hitting the floor with zero finesse. She runs in a second later, stopping a foot away and sitting down, because she has learned that trying to weave between Mitch's legs means she might get landed on. She's his smart baby, and Mitch smiles at her. "Were you being mean to Dylan?"

"Mrow," Roger replies, blinking up at him.

"Right, you're perfect," Mitch says, nodding and grabbing his cane. He makes his way into the living room, where Dylan is sprawled across the sofa, taking up Roger's favourite spot to lay. "Hey, ever think that Roger might be in a mood because your feet are where her ass likes to be?"

"Who, me?" Dylan asks, blinking just as innocently as Roger had a moment ago. "Nah, Rog and I are cuddle buddies."

"Right," Mitch says, lowering himself into his lift chair. He presses the button to have it go down to sitting when he's in position, and he and Dylan wait the chair out as it settles. Roger jumps up when the motor stops, kneading at the armrest, and then settles into her favourite loaf of bread pose. "You were just telling me about how she's in a mood, Dyls. Which one is it?"

"You and your details," Dylan sighs, waving a hand. "What were you saying about kids?"

"Steve gave me an actual assignment today," Mitch says, grin breaking across his face. "He wants me to spearhead the new initiative to make the Leafs more appealing to a younger fanbase. Like, the young kids, not teenagers or early twenties or whatever."

"Dude, that's awesome," Dylan says, grinning right back at him. "Something with Carlton for sure. We have one of the only non-weird, non-terrifying mascots in the league, so why not go with what's good?"

"Yeah, agreed," Mitch says, nodding. "The problem is, what's new? What haven't we already done, or what hasn't some other team already done? I need something that's uncomplicated but fresh."

"Huh," Dylan says, frowning a little. "I'd say a video series or something, but it's not like Carlton talks."

"And we don't want to do voiceover," Mitch adds. "Because then Carlton talks in videos, but not at games, and then kids would cry."

Dylan shudders. "Don't make kids cry," he says. "Crying kids are the worst. I feel like I have to go hug them until they calm down, and I would be all sweaty from playing, probably."

"I'll do my best not to make any kids cry," Mitch says dryly. "Just for you, though. Screw the kids."

"That's why you're my bestie," Dylan singsongs, cupping his fingers together to make a heart and batting his eyes at Mitch.

"You are why William Nylander asked me if we were sleeping together 'for realsies or for funsies' in front of my boss on the third day of my dream job," Mitch says, rolling his eyes. Dylan pouts, and Mitch tries to hold out, but he relents after a minute and copies the heart-hands gesture. "Yes, I love you too. Please tell your liney that we're not sleeping together."

"I've tried, but unless I give him the truth, he's not gonna buy it," Dylan says. He wiggles a little on the sofa. "I'll tell him to lay off bothering you, though. That's not cool."

Mitch sighs a little. "Just tell him not in front of my boss," he says, scritching Roger behind the ears. She purrs and rolls half into his lap, and Mitch grabs the rag from the the head of the chair and puts it under her face. She's either gonna drool or gnaw, and either way, the rag's better than the chair.

"I'm sorry," Dylan says quietly. "It's just…"

"Don't," Mitch says firmly. "You and Davo are great, and he's not ready to come out, and that is _fine_. I can play pretend boyfriend if it keeps your teammates from prying." He grins a little. "Just let Davo know, okay? I don't want him getting the wrong idea."

"He would kill me," Dylan says, but he's smiling again, happy in the way that only Davo makes him. "He likes you too much; you'd be fine. Me, though, I'd be super toast."

"He'd never believe it and we both know it," Mitch says, amused. "Just because we're best friend life partners doesn't mean I ever want to date you."

"Same," Dylan says, wrinkling his nose a little. "I mean, I love you, but…"

"But," Mitch agrees. "Anyway, back to my Carlton thing. I was thinking maybe, like, a series of little books? Short stories that we can put on the website, maybe?"

"Oh my god," Dylan says, eyes suddenly wide. "Books? You want to do books?"

"Not your thing, I know," Mitch starts, but Dylan sits up abruptly and reaches for his phone. "Uh, Dyls?"

"Hang on, hang on," Dylan mutters, scrolling at something on his phone. He stops after a moment and looks up. "Is that the way you want to go? Carlton stories?"

"I think it's worth a try," Mitch says, watching Dylan. "What do you have?"

"I know a guy who knows a guy," Dylan says. "I can probably get you in touch with someone who can make it happen."

"Read me in, please," Mitch says. "Who knows who?"

"I'm in touch with Zach Werenski through the draft group chat, and he played college hockey with Zachary Hyman," Dylan says. "He's the guy who did—"

" _Hockey Hero_ ," Mitch says, eyes wide as he leans forward. "And the other one, the book about Babe Ruth. You think you can get him for me?"

"As your best friend life partner, I promise to try," Dylan says, focusing back on his phone. "I can't promise you he'll do it, Mitchy, but I know he's a local guy and a Leafs fan. He might be up for it."

"Oh my god," Mitch says, grinning. "Not to inflate your ego or anything, but you'd be the best best friend life partner in the history of best friend life partners if you could get me in touch with Zachary Hyman and he agrees to write me a Carlton book."

"On my honor, I will try," Dylan says, tapping away at his phone.

"You're my favourite Girl Scout," Mitch replies, grinning. "Roger's, too. Right, Rog?"

"Mrow," Roger says, meowing through a mouthful of the rag Mitch had put down, and Mitch laughs and scritches harder.

-0-

Mitch tells Steve that he's working on an idea the next day. Steve's response is a mostly generic "okay, cool, let me know," which Mitch knows is boss-speak for "sure, kid, tell me when you really have something."

He really, really hopes he has something.

It takes two days before the hockey grapevine delivers, but later that week Mitch has to put his hand over his mouth to keep from yelling in glee when his phone dings softly, letting him know that he's got an email waiting for him from zach.hyman@penguinrandomhouse.com. He manages to finish storyboarding the Snap story he wants to put together during the next practice before he checks his email, but it's a close thing.

 _From: "Zachary Hyman" <zach.hyman@penguinrandomhouse.com> _  
_To: "marner.m@mlse.org"_  
_Subject: Possible children's book deal?_

_Hi Mitch,_

_I heard from Zach Werenski that you might be interested in working with me on some Leafs-themed children's books. I'm definitely interested in talking with you more to see if we want to move forward on this together. I'm based out of Markham at the moment, but I can get into Toronto without any trouble. Name a time and place and I'll be happy to meet you there!_

_Best,_  
_Zach Hyman_

"This is the coolest thing that has ever happened to me," Mitch declares to his empty office as he starts typing out his reply. He's got meetings and PR sessions with players for the rest of the week, but he and Zach manage to set up a lunch meeting for Monday, and Mitch blocks off his afternoon after lunch just in case. He's hoping that he can persuade Zach to work on the Carlton books and then spend some time hammering out the details so he can come back to Steve with something definite in hand. He sends a quick email to Legal, asking for a preliminary contract and an NDA, and then he heads to Steve's office.

"Hey, Mitch," Steve says when Mitch knocks on his door. "What's up? Come in, sit down."

Mitch enters, but he leans back against the wall instead of sitting. It's easier, sometimes; if he knows he's not spending a lot of time in one place and he's not having a bad pain or weakness day, it's not worth it to sit, because the transition between sitting and standing can be a bitch and a half. He'd made sure his coworkers all knew that, and so far, nobody's given him grief. "I wanted to let you know about my preliminary idea for the kids' thing and where I am with it."

"I'm listening," Steve says, giving him a smile.

"Kids' books," Mitch says simply. "We feature Carlton, we explain some hockey, we show him talking to people about kid-friendly things. Anti-bullying, hockey is for everyone, lots of positive messages. We can sell them during games, give whoever's in the suit a stamp so he can sign books during meet-and-greets." Mitch has put some thought into this, and he's actually really excited about it. He's going to make Dylan the best chicken and quinoa he can muster if he manages to make the whole thing happen.

"That's a great idea," Steve says, still smiling. "You have anything beyond that?"

"A meeting set up for Monday with someone who might be willing to work with us on the writing component," Mitch says. "And a request in to Legal for an NDA and an outline of the terms and conditions."

"That's moving fast," Steve says, but he sounds happy about it, so Mitch shrugs and smiles. "Who'd you find?"

"A local guy who writes children's books," Mitch says.

Steve laughs. "If you somehow got Zachary Hyman to write us a kids' book, I'm giving you a raise," he says, clearly joking.

Mitch coughs. "Can I get that in writing?"

It makes Steve stop laughing really, really abruptly. "Are you serious?"

"I mean, he hasn't signed anything yet," Mitch hedges. "But I'm meeting with him on Monday, yeah."

"I don't want to know how," Steve says, shaking his head a little. "I'm going to talk to Legal about a budget for this. Hyman means an increase, for sure. Holy shit, Mitch."

"Don't count your chickens or anything," Mitch warns. "But also, like, you said the thing about the raise, and don't think I won't hold you to that."

"Land the deal and we'll talk," Steve says firmly. "Zachary Hyman. Jesus."

"I think he's Jewish," Mitch offers. "So, like, I don't know? But the original one was, so I guess it's possible."

Steve starts laughing again, and Mitch grins and takes that as his cue to leave.

-0-

Mitch is already at the restaurant when Zach walks in ten minutes early. It's a habit that he's picked up in the last handful of years; leaving for something well before he has to means that he has plenty of time to work with if something goes wrong. It's raining today, so Dylan had dropped him off on his way to practice so Mitch didn't have to wrestle with navigating the bus, and he's reviewing the NDA for the third time when he hears someone clear their throat and say, "Well, so much for having a glass of water to calm my nerves before meeting with the Leafs guy."

Mitch looks up and grins. "You're not the one meeting an Amazon bestselling author," he says, holding his hand out. "I'd get up, but to be really honest with you, my knees are killing me."

Zach's smile doesn't drop at all as he shakes Mitch's hand. "Don't worry about it," he says, taking his seat. "Uh, also, just so you know: I thought your name sounded sort of familiar when we were talking, so I Googled you? And, uh." He gestures at Mitch's cane, sitting propped up against the table. "I just wanted to let you know that I read about what happened. Sorry."

"Thanks," Mitch says lightly. "I'm good with it now, though." He laughs a little "How did you recognise my name?"

"I played all through college," Zach replies, shrugging a little. "When you hear about someone getting injured, I guess it sticks?"

"Makes sense," Mitch says. "So I have an NDA for you to sign before we get started. Then I figured we'd order food, then talk about the basics, and then work out details if you're still interested. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," Zach says, smiling widely, and Mitch has to blink a little. Zach isn't the most conventionally attractive guy that Mitch has ever laid eyes on, but there's something really engaging about the way he smiles, like he's just really, earnestly happy and wants to show it via facial expression. Mitch can't help but smile back and cross his fingers that this is going to work out.

He ends up being really, really glad that he cleared his afternoon. Zach is definitely interested in working on the project, so Mitch spends some time talking about the history of the Leafs, then hands over everything he could dig up about Carlton and what's already been done with him in regards to marketing materials. Zach reads the material quickly but thoroughly, then takes out a pen and starts making notes, asking questions and rattling off ideas as he goes. It's a fascinating process to watch; parts of it seem familiar, since Mitch has worked on how to present stories before, but Mitch's stories are based around players and team history and real, actual people. Watching the process happen with so much stuff being made up on the fly is a whole different ball game, and Mitch is kind of entranced.

"So," Zach says, tapping his pen on the stack of papers he's marked up. "Did any of that sound like something you want to work on?"

"I mean, it all sounded great to me," Mitch says, maybe a little too honestly. "Are any of the storylines more interesting to you from a writing perspective? Or as, like, a person with more perspective on what kids like?"

Zach laughs, and it does nice things for his eyes. "I mean, I came up with all of them, so they'll all be hits, clearly," he says, teasing tone evident in his voice. "But, uh. Maybe Carlton learning to skate? That seems like a logical place to start."

"It does," Mitch agrees. "Maybe combining that with the idea about him getting hockey equipment for his birthday? And then that makes him want to learn to skate and to play?"

"Good, yeah," Zach says, nodding as he scribbles it down. "Okay. Anything else you wanted to talk about today?"

"No," Mitch says, shrugging a little. "Have your lawyer look at the contract, I guess, and then let me know if there's anything you want to talk with our legal team about. I'd like to make this as smooth as possible for both of us, so feel free to talk to me about whatever you need as we go forward, okay?"

"I will," Zach promises. He hesitates a little, then nods, almost too small a motion for Mitch to catch. "Let me give you my cell number. Not the work one, the other one. I'm more likely to answer that one."

"Oh, you don't have to," Mitch starts to protest, but Zach already has his phone out, and as Mitch is talking, his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Zach smiles sheepishly. "Don't use it if it bothers you," he says. "And, like, obviously you don't have to give me your after-hours number. This just gives you an easy way to get in touch with me, and also covers my ass when I grab the wrong phone to text you from."

Mitch laughs. "Okay, fair," he agrees. "I don't always answer the work phone after hours, but I do always have it with me, so if something comes up, you can text there and I'll almost definitely see it."

"Sounds good to me," Zach says, smiling as he stands up. "I'll drop the contract off with my lawyer on the way home, and she should be back to me about it by the day after tomorrow at the latest. I'll keep you in the loop."

"Great, thanks," Mitch says, smiling and holding his hand out again. He'll wait until Zach's gone to get out of his seat and make his way back to the office; it's going to be a slow process, between the shitty weather and the fact that he's been sitting in the same spot for far, far longer than he's supposed to without moving. The myth about having a bad knee, Mitch has often complained to Dylan, is that it implies that his other knee is fine. The truth is closer to Mitch having a bad knee and a worse knee, and he doesn't really need to show that to the guy who might actually be about to solidify Mitch's career with the Leafs, at least not at their first meeting.

Zach shakes his hand, and he hesitates slightly before letting go. "Look, uh, feel free to tell me if I'm overstepping my bounds here, but would you like a ride back to… wherever it is you're going?"

"Um," Mitch says, eyes going a little wide.

Zach holds both hands up. "It's just, you were saying earlier that your knees were bothering you? And dude, I wouldn't want to take the bus in rain like this, and Carolyn will be in her office until, like, seven tonight, so I definitely have time to give you a lift if you want. Or not, if I'm being too… forward, or something."

It's a quick sort of mental calculus. Mitch has to weigh not really knowing the guy against the productive and actually fun lunch they'd just had; the thought of waiting for the bus in the rain against the quicker, easier thought of just getting in a car and going; the thought of showing exactly how much getting up and walking is going to suck against not wanting Zach to write him off or pity him at all just because his legs happen to be working like garbage right now. In the end, it's really a snap decision no matter which way he leans, so Mitch lets himself smile a little and nod. "Sure, yeah. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it."

Zach's face breaks into a full-fledged smile. "Okay," he says. "You want me to go get the car and bring it around?"

"That would be great," Mitch says, trying not to let how grateful he is bleed into his voice too much. Two birds, one stone, he thinks; Zach won't be there to watch him getting up, and the car will be that much closer once he makes it to the door.

"Okay," Zach says, still smiling. "It's a dark gray Hyundai Tucson. Hopefully it's not too much of a hassle to get into and out of."

"Nah, that should be fine," Mitch says. "Thanks."

"Any time," Zach says, and Mitch can't help but think that there's something really honest in the way he says it as he turns to leave.

-0-

There's a little haggling between Legal and Zach's lawyer, but the contract is signed, sealed, and personally delivered before the end of the week. Steve is stuck between delighted and amazed, and he manages to get Mitch a performance bonus for landing the deal, half of which Mitch uses to upgrade the television in his bedroom that he refused to let Dylan pay for and the rest of which he puts into savings. He tries taking Dylan out for dinner as a way of saying thanks, but between Dylan's start-of-the-season schedule and all of the Leafs' team bonding things, Mitch finds himself at dinner two weeks later with Dylan and his linemates instead.

"Mitchy," Willy says, leaning across the table and patting Mitch's hand. "I'm really sorry about the whole… thing… at the beginning of the season."

"No harm, no foul," Mitch says easily, glancing at Dylan, who has his head in his hands. "Uh, what made you believe what I said about not being with Dylan?"

"I told him I've met Dylan's actual boyfriend," Brownie says, giving Mitch his trademark smirk. "You should have seen his face."

"I still don't know who it is," Willy says immediately, pouting at Mitch a little. "Do you know? Am I the only one?"

"We're all keeping this secret from you," Mitch says very seriously, nodding at Willy. "Sorry. O boys only. You ditch us for Sweden, you lose all the secret knowledge."

Dylan throws his head back and laughs as Willy gapes, and Brownie gives Mitch a thumbs-up. "Still fluent in chirping, eh?"

"Break my knees and take me off the ice, but you can't take the hockey player out of me," Mitch says, shrugging a little. He takes a sip of his beer to hide his smile.

"Nice," Dylan says, patting Mitch on the shoulder. "Dude, tell us about your book thing. I think we can all agree that the last thing we want to talk about is the practice we lived through today."

Brownie groans and Willy makes a face, and Mitch resolves to ask Dylan about what went on later. "Sure," he says instead. "I mean, if you really want to hear about the off-ice stuff that happens, I can tell you all about meetings where I have to wear suits the whole time and absolutely zero plays are diagrammed."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," Willy says without a hint of irony, and Mitch almost wants to applaud him, because Brownie and Dylan both break into snickers. "Tell us about what makes the Leafs tick off the ice. Other than Babs and Shanny."

"I'm working on a thing to make you guys look better to little kids," Mitch says, shrugging a little. "I mean, all the winning is great, so please keep that up, but we're looking for ways to market you to, like, grade schoolers."

"And you picked books?" Brownie asks. "Like, picture books or something?"

"Yeah, exactly," Mitch says, smiling. He nods at Dylan. "Dyls has a connection to the guy who wrote _Hockey Hero,_ so—"

"You _what_?" Willy yelps, whipping around to clare at Dylan. "Dude! This is information you share with your favourite winger!"

"He didn't tell me, so calm down," Brownie says without missing a beat. "You know Zachary Hyman, though?"

"Zach," Mitch corrects, almost automatically. All three of them turn to focus on him, and Mitch shrugs a little. "He goes by Zach in person. He's working with me to produce a series of short stories about Carlton, and we're gonna have them all illustrated and published."

"That's so cool," Willy breathes. "Do you think you could, like, ask him to sign a couple of books? Is that weird? I have cousins who would absolutely love them for Christmas."

"I mean, I can ask," Mitch says, shrugging. "He's a Leafs fan, actually. I'm pretty sure if you signed a puck or something, it'd buy you a signed book or two."

"Done," Willy says instantly. "I'll give them to Stromer at practice, he can give them to you, you barter with _Zach_ and tell him I'll give him as many as he wants in exchange for signed books. That's awesome."

Mitch laughs. "No promises," he warns. "I'm meeting him for lunch next Wednesday, though, so I can let you know after that."

"Awesome," Willy repeats, pleased. He looks around, then leans in conspiratorially. "Is he hot?"

"William," Brownie says, like a longsuffering dad.

"Shoo, Brownie, I'm invested in Mitchy's love life," Willy says, actually making a shooing motion with both hands. "Is he? You can tell me."

"Oh my god," Mitch mutters, and he can hear Dylan laughing next to him.

"Aren't you glad you don't have to deal with this asshole every day?" Dylan says, putting an arm around Mitch's shoulders and giving him a squeeze, careful not to pull him off balance at all. Mitch actually had a pretty good day, leg-wise, but he appreciates Dylan being careful all the same.

"Very," Mitch replies. "I'm working with him, Nylander. I'm not trying to get into his pants."

"You are very good at multitasking," Willy says archly. "I've seen it. You can beat us all at chel while you're talking to your boss on speakerphone, and he doesn't even know you're not at your computer looking up whatever he's asking you about."

"That's because you're terrible at chel and I have a good memory," Mitch says sweetly.

"I'm letting that slide, but only so we can get back to _Zach,_ " Willy says, narrowing his eyes. "Come on, Mitchy, give me something here. I'm not allowed to know who Dylan's doing, and Brownie's basically married and boring."

"Hey," Brownie objects. "Married doesn't mean boring."

"Just predictable," Willy says. "This is new! This is exciting! This is—"

"—all in your imagination," Mitch cuts in. "He's—look, he's super nice? And, like, he loves the Leafs. But it's a professional relationship, guys, and that's it."

"But is he hot?" Willy asks again, patience clear in his voice. "Work with me here. I'm begging you."

"Not as hot as you," Mitch promises, rolling his eyes a little. "You're still the fairest of them all."

Willy laughs. "That's all I needed to hear," he says, batting his eyelashes at Mitch. "Thanks for stroking my ego. I guess I'll let you slide on the question for now."

"You're so generous," Mitch says dryly, lifting his beer in a salute.

"I know," Willy says, grinning. "Okay, if there are no actual deets, then tell us more about your books."

-0-

The problem with Willy's meddling is this: Mitch does, actually, kind of like Zach.

It's not like he knows the guy much better than he had after their first meeting, but Zach's funny and quick-witted and has always accommodated Mitch in whatever way he needs without making him feel like an invalid. It's a balance that took months to strike with Dylan, even longer with his parents, and is something that he's come to just not expect to happen with anyone unless he's in the mood to beat them over the head about it for extended periods of time. Zach's not perfect with it or anything—Mitch doesn't do revolving doors, sure, but he doesn't need every regular door held open for him, either—but it's clear that either he already knows how to be around someone with mobility issues or that he's doing some reading in his spare time.

Mitch brings two pucks and a snapback that Willy had signed to his next lunch with Zach, who breaks into a brilliant smile and promises to bring signed copies of his books the next time they meet. "Tell him thanks," Zach says, cradling one of the pucks in his hands. "This is sick. I would've given him signed books anyway."

"Don't tell him that," Mitch advises, laughing. "I'm pretty sure he'd sign anything you asked him to."

It makes Zach laugh, too. "I'll keep that in mind," he promises. "Wow. I kind of had no idea that some of the Leafs knew about my books enough to actually want signed copies."

"Surprise," Mitch says, laughing a little. "Is Nylander your favourite? He's a good guy. Kind of over-excited about everything he thinks about, but a solid dude."

"Nah," Zach says, finally putting the pucks and snapback back into the bag that Mitch had brought them in. "It's actually—don't laugh, okay?"

Mitch raises an eyebrow. "Is it Matthews? It might actually be in my contract to not laugh about people liking Matthews. He's kind of a big deal." He pauses. "Also a super, super nice guy, though. I don't know him that well, but he's always talking to my boss about community outreach and stuff."

"That's awesome, but no," Zach says. He hesitates a little, then says, "If I had to pick one favourite, it'd be Dylan Strome. He just—he seems like he works really hard out there, and like he's a great teammate, and—I knew you were gonna laugh," he finishes, sighing but still smiling a little. "I know. Not the most popular choice."

"No, it's not that," Mitch says, trying to stop his laughing fit but not really able to. "It's just—he's my roommate? And, like, my best friend? So this is actually hilarious to me, and I'm begging you to let me tell him about this."

"Oh my god, no way," Zach says, leaning in and grinning. "You live with him? That's amazing!"

"Don't meet your heroes," Mitch says, finally getting his laughing under control. "He's awful at dishes. Good at laundry, though, so I guess there's that."

"And he's good with," Zach says, waving his hand around vaguely. "Everything else?"

It's something he's heard his mother ask a dozen times, a hundred; it's not that she doesn't like Dylan, but she can get sort of overprotective. The fact that Mitch has been living successfully out of the house for three years and with Dylan for two of them doesn't really register with her a lot of the time, but it does mean that Mitch knows how to shrug the question off without getting defensive. "Yeah," he answers, glancing away and letting his smile fade. "He's probably the best person I know with _everything else,_ actually. We got pretty close after my injury, and he's helped me with a lot of stuff."

"I'm sorry, I had no right to ask that," Zach says, and when Mitch looks back at him, he's fiddling with his napkin, cheeks red. "You're clearly perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and I'm just… some guy you're working with. That was really shitty of me."

"It was," Mitch agreed. "Thanks for the apology, though. I get the first part a lot without the apology afterward."

"I'm sorry," Zach says again. He's still playing with his napkin, twisting it around and around his fingers. He laughs a little, but it doesn't sound amused. "If you want to, like. I mean, I'd understand if you'd rather have someone else meet with me from now on."

Mitch raps his knuckles against the table, and Zach looks up. "Is that what you want? To work with someone else?"

"No," Zach says hastily. "No, that's not—"

"How about this," Mitch cuts in, trying to be gentle. "You take a nice, deep breath and finish your glass of water, and then we move on. Okay?"

"Okay," Zach mumbles.

Mitch pulls out his phone and lets Zach see him tap on his email, then turns it more towards himself and quickly switches to text. _Just got the BUT IS HE TAKING CARE OF U question from zach hyman_

Dylan sends back six eye-rolling emojis. _Tell him I treat u so right, like a goddamn prince._

 _Damn right u do,_ Mitch texts back. He glances up and sees that Zach's tracing the condensation down the side of his mostly-empty water glass. _Let willy know that hyman's hot when he's tripping over himself to apologise_

 _HAHAHAHAHAHA will do,_ Dylan replies, and Mitch goes back to his home screen, puts his phone down, and looks back at Zach. "You good?"

"Yeah," Zach says. "I'm sorry again, and I'm ready to keep going if you are."

"Let's do this," Mitch says, nodding.

-0-

Thursday starts on the wrong foot. Literally, because that's how Mitch's life rolls.

The thing about having the kinds of medical problems that Mitch deals with is that bad days are just part of the equation, and there's not always a way to predict them or prevent them. His knees are bad, yeah, but he's also got pervasive muscle weakness from the parts of his spine that were impacted in the collision with the boards, and his ankles swell a lot, and sometimes his hips do weird things from trying to compensate for whatever his knees and ankles are dealing with. Among other things, it means that sometimes he can go to bed fine, but when he tries to get out of bed the next morning he ends up in a world of hurt out of basically nowhere.

"Fuck, fuck," Mitch says, gritting his teeth as he lays on the floor. Nothing's broken, he's at least 95% sure of that, and he can see his phone on the floor about a foot away. If he can get himself onto his stomach, he can call Dylan. He's just gonna breathe through it for a second until his vision isn't swimming anymore, and then he's gonna—

"Mitchy," he hears outside his door, Dylan's voice calm but urgent. "I heard—"

"I fell," Mitch says shortly, and then Dylan's opening his bedroom door and taking the two steps to Mitch's side, kneeling on the floor next to him. "You were up?"

"Yeah, I was gonna meet Brownie for breakfast before skate, but he's standing me up for wife time," he says, dropping his phone to the floor. "Direct me."

"Help me straighten out my legs," Mitch says, and Dylan nods, puts one hand low on the inside of Mitch's thigh and the other high on his calf, gently helping Mitch straighten it out. Mitch grits his teeth and helps where he can, letting Dylan do the brunt of the work first with his left leg, then with his right. Once they're straight, Mitch lets out a shuddery breath and turns so his cheek is pressed against the floor.

Dylan doesn't say anything; he just scoots closer and pushes his fingers gently into Mitch's hair, rubbing soothingly at his scalp. It's a familiar form of comfort, a thing they'd started after Mitch's second surgery, the one where the doctors told him all the pain in his lower body was actually a good sign even if it felt awful. His head hadn't hurt and it had felt like the only thing right then, so Dylan had taken to running his fingers through Mitch's hair and talking aimlessly about anything not-hockey-related that crossed his mind until Mitch could open his eyes without immediately tearing up.

"Roger's sleeping in the window seat again," Dylan says now, something for Mitch to focus on as he breathes through everything his legs are complaining about."The sun's reflecting off the windows across the street, and she found herself a nice, warm sunbeam to lay in. She's the happiest cat in the world."

"She'd better be," Mitch croaks out. "We picked this place because of that window seat for my spoiled little princess."

Dylan laughs a little. "It would be super cat of her to not use it," he says lightly. "But no, she loves it and you know it. All that nice warm sunshiney goodness, all day, every day."

"She's a good cat," Mitch mumbles, fingers flexing. One of his doctors had actually suggested he get an animal; it's good to have a companion, the woman had said gently, to help keep your spirits up. Mitch's spirits hadn't been anywhere near "up" when the doctors all agreed that this was as good as it was going to get, so he'd numbly taken the letter his doctor had written for him to the animal shelter, and now he's got Roger and he's really, really thankful for her.

"Hey, Roger," Dylan calls, voice still gentle but a little louder. "Hey, kitty baby, can you wake up and come in here? Your daddy wants to cuddle with you, c'mon, Roger."

Roger meows and Mitch's eyes prickle a little as he hears her jump out of the window seat and run to the door of his room. She meows again at the door, and Mitch wiggles his fingers at her. She walks over and butts her head against them, then walks past his hand to sniff at his hip. "Meow," she informs him, and then she flops onto her side, purring loudly, head on Mitch's stomach.

Mitch laughs. "Good kitty," he says, digging his fingers in the scruff of her neck and scratching. She purrs louder and stretches, pushing her neck into Mitch's hand, and they just stay where they are, Mitch on the floor cuddling his cat while Dylan pets his hair.

Dylan hums after a little while. "Doing any better?"

"Yeah," Mitch says. "I think so. I should sit up before my back does something."

"Yes," Dylan says immediately. Mitch's back is fine almost all of the time, but Dylan's seen the spasms, and he quietly admitted to Mitch after the first time that he'd never been so scared, not even when Mitch first went into the boards, not when the doctors had been talking about Mitch maybe not regaining the use of his legs at all. "Lemme move Rog."

Roger protests until Dylan lifts her up onto the bed, and then she immediately scurries under the covers, chatting to them as she curls up out of sight. Mitch smiles, then takes a deep breath. "Let me try," he says, and Dylan nods and gets out of the way.

It takes a few minutes, but Mitch manages to pull himself into a seated position. He's kind of a mess, and he's glad that Dylan either actually got stood up by Brownie or stood Brownie up and lied for Mitch's benefit, because Dylan watches him carefully but never insists that Mitch take his help, and then he walks out of sight for a moment but reappears with a glass of water, Mitch's bad day pills, and half a sandwich.

He sits down next to Mitch, their backs to the bed, and offers him the sandwich. Mitch doesn't really want to eat, but taking the pain pills on an empty stomach is just asking for trouble, so he chokes it down, then swallows the pills and finishes off the glass of water before sagging into Dylan's side. "You're the best and I love you so much," Mitch mumbles, closing his eyes as Dylan puts an arm around his shoulders.

"Love you too, buddy," Dylan replies. "I know you want to recover a little bit more before you move around, but think about work, okay? You can call out, or you can work from home, or you can take your chair in today. Those are all options, but you might need to call Steve, so you should think about what you want to do."

"I'm not going in," Mitch says quickly. That's a bad idea; the pills are going to make him kind of loopy for a little while, and he'd talked to Steve during his hiring process about the reality of his disability and how he sometimes has to use a wheelchair, but he doesn't think today's the day he wants to introduce the whole office to that fact. "Maybe I'll take the morning off, sleep it off a little, and then work from here this afternoon."

"That sounds like a good plan to me," Dylan says easily. "We've got practice this afternoon, but nothing going on this morning. I can be your cuddle friend if you want one."

"Yes, please," Mitch says. "I need to call Steve. Then I'm gonna need help off the floor, and probably help with standing for a hot second."

Dylan hesitates, which is kind of rare between them. "D'you want me to get the chair, just for around the apartment?" he asks finally.

"I," Mitch says, then hesitates. For all they joke about picking the apartment because of Roger's beloved window seat, they're actually here because it's close to the rink, close to Mitch's office, and all of the doors are wheelchair-accessible. The chair's always an option, even if it's never the one Mitch wants to use. "I don't know," he says finally. "Maybe help me sit on the bed, I'll call Steve, and we can see?"

"Okay," Dylan says. "Let me know when you're ready."

"I'm ready," Mitch says, and part of him feels like it's silly to feel like he's being brave for preparing to stand up, but it's easy enough to tell that tiny corner of his brain to shut up and go away.

-0-

Mitch loses most of his morning, but by the time Dylan starts making noise about heading to practice, he's feeling good enough to at least get out of bed and attempt working in the living room for the afternoon. Dylan helps him get everything set up, and he brings Mitch's wheelchair in and parks it within reach of where Mitch is set up in his recliner. "For just in case," Dylan says.

"Thanks," Mitch says. "Doing anything later, or are you coming home after practice?"

"I'm not sure yet," Dylan says, and if Mitch didn't know him as well as he does, he'd totally buy it.

"You have plans but you're thinking about cancelling them to come home," Mitch translates.

Dylan shrugs a little. "For what it's worth, Brownie actually did cancel on me this morning, so the universe owes me one."

"Call first," Mitch says. "I'll let you know how things are here, and you can decide whether or not you still want to go out with the guys."

"Okay," Dylan says. "Need anything? Water? Another sandwich?"

"I need you to go to practice, because I want to review the Tumblr proposal Colin sent me so I can get all the groaning out of my system before I have to face him tomorrow," Mitch says. He likes his coworkers, he truly does, but they're putting up a lot of resistance to some of Mitch's ideas. He's trying to remind them that they brought him in to appeal to a younger crowd, but it's slow going, and Mitch has the feeling that the Tumblr proposal is going to include a lot of straight-up stats pages and bland player profiles.

"Dude, good luck," Dylan says, grimacing a little.

Mitch salutes him and lets Steve know that he's available for a call if he's needed, then opens up the Powerpoint that Colin had sent.

"Somehow, I don't think this is going to be a very Tumblr Powerpoint," Mitch mutters as he dives in.

He's right and wrong at the same time; Colin had clearly actually looked at the Avs account that Mitch had sent him, because the content suggestions are full of vague things about "using Internet syntax to engage with fans" and "Bitmoji???" and "behind-the-scenes content," but it's still lacking in a lot of things that Mitch thinks would really make it a hit. It's a much better starting point than Mitch was imagining, though, so he sends the document to print and carefully transfers into his wheelchair so he can go back to his bedroom to get them.

His phone pings with a message while he's waiting for the printer to finish, and Mitch's eyebrows fly up to his hairline when he sees that it's from Zach. _Hi. I dropped by your office to give you those books for William Nylander and to talk about the project, but one of your coworkers said you're working from home today. Will you be in tomorrow so I can stop by?_

 _I'll be back tomorrow, yeah,_ Mitch says. He hesitates, but the printer is still chugging along, so he taps out _If you want, you can bring them by here? No pressure if you don't want to!_

 _Sure!_ Zach replies almost instantly. _My afternoon is free. I can swing by._

Mitch texts his address, and then the printer dings that it's finally done, so Mitch grabs the sheaf of printouts and sets them in his lap, putting his phone on top of them so he can wheel himself into the kitchen without losing anything. He grabs the pack of colored pens that live in the junk drawer, then gets a glass of water before he settles at the kitchen table. It's a good height for him to work at if he stays in his chair, and if he's going to be answering the door, the chair is definitely going to be involved.

It occurs to Mitch as he's buzzing Zach up that he maybe should have warned him about the wheelchair, but it's a little late now, so Mitch just sits back and puts his phone on silent while he waits. The doorbell rings a moment later, and Mitch pulls it open and smiles up at Zach, feeling it spread a little crookedly across his face.

"So I'm working from home today because I had kind of a bad morning," he says, rolling back a little. "Sorry for not giving you a heads up. Come on in, though."

"Hey, no, you don't have to warn me about anything," Zach says, following Mitch in. He locks the door behind them and then takes his shoes off, and Mitch is grateful that he either picked up on the fact that there are several pairs of shoes near the door or that he's in the habit himself, because it can be sort of awkward to ask people to take their shoes off. Mitch has outside shoes and inside shoes, and Dylan firmly believes that shoes are foot prisons and that feet don't belong in jail, but there had been something of an incident with Moore when he'd come over at one point. Moore had protested, so Dylan had felt the need to very pointedly explain that they don't track the outside inside because it can fuck up the way Mitch walks around his own home. Dylan had been livid, Moore had been almost embarrassingly apologetic, and Mitch is just grateful when he doesn't have to deal with it right now, frankly.

"You brought the books?" Mitch asks, trusting that Zach will follow him into the kitchen. "Willy's going to be the happiest. His face will just beam pure joy into the universe."

"So if there's an uptick in people having a good day tomorrow, I guess I should take the credit," Zach quips, and Mitch laughs.

"I mean, you'll definitely be a contributing factor," Mitch says. "Just put them up there on the counter. I'll have Dylan take them in tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Zach says, smiling as he deposits the books where Mitch is pointing. He glances at the table and his eyes go a little wide. "Wow, that's… if you're busy, we can go over the Carlton thing some other time. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Don't worry about it," Mitch says, shrugging. "We're talking about jumping into the world of Tumblr. This isn't a project I'm going to finish today, and honestly, tomorrow isn't looking good either."

Zach laughs and sits at the table, pulling out his phone. "So I had a friend play around with some cover design ideas," he says, turning his phone so Mitch can see. "Since we're going with Carlton getting hockey gear for his birthday and then learning to skate for the first story, I asked her to give me a few rough sketches, and told her I'd let her know if you want to move forward with any of them."

"Oh my god," Mitch says, face breaking into a grin as he grabs Zach's phone and hunches over it. He swipes through the pictures; there are three, and they're all absolutely adorable. He goes back to the second one after swiping back and forth a few times and holds it back out for Zach. "I think this one goes the best with the story," he says.

It's really, really cute; even though it's rough, it clearly shows Carlton opening presents, then standing with all of his hockey gear on, then clutching his stick as he looks out on the ice with a worried expression. It's a reasonable adaptation of the story, and the style makes everything seem round and soft and friendly.

"Oh, awesome," Zach says with a grin as he sees which one Mitch is talking about. "That's the one I like, too, and it's actually the first one she sent me."

Mitch laughs. "Great minds."

"I was thinking maybe a little doodle for the back with this cover, too," Zach says earnestly. "Like, just something to put on the side next to the summary, maybe Carlton skating around?"

"Too cute," Mitch says, beaming. "Oh my god, that sounds completely adorable."

"I'm glad," Zach says, smile lighting up his whole face. "I'm aiming to have the first draft of the story to you by Monday. I know it's a little ahead of schedule, but I'm having fun with this, and it's always a good idea to run with inspiration when it hits you."

"Oh, awesome," Mitch says. "I can't promise I'll have the revisions back to you any quicker than we said originally, but I'll do my best." He gestures at the Tumblr proposal that's still all over the table. "I have my work cut out for me for the foreseeable future, I think."

"I don't envy you that," Zach says, shaking his head. "I run my own Tumblr, and that's just for me and my books. Running it for the whole team sounds exhausting."

"It probably will be," Mitch says cheerily. "I can't wait to find out, honestly."

Zach laughs. "Better you than me."

"As long as you know better than some of the stuff in this proposal, I'm sure you're doing fine," Mitch replies, shrugging. "Like, Colin's great, but I'm going to have to explain to him yet again how to spell 'emoji' and that messaging, ask box, and inbox are all different things."

"Oh, god," Zach says, laughing again. "Just don't let him see the anons."

"He never gets to know that anons are a thing," Mitch agrees, laughing along with Zach.

"Any other gems?" Zach asks, looking at the spread of paper.

"Here, look," Mitch says, reaching for one.

They spend a while going through the proposal; it's fun, having someone he can kind of goof off with who at least sort of understands his job. Zach has a few suggestions that Mitch jots down, and he keeps insisting that the header image be the cover of the Carlton book, whatever that ends up being, telling Mitch that it's a far better representation of the team than "boring, sweaty, gross hockey players playing hockey."

"I mean, you might be right," Mitch says, laughing after Zach describes a college locker room scene. "I'd like to think the actual Leafs are better than that, but…"

Zach opens his mouth to reply, which is when the front door bangs open and Dylan barrels in full speed ahead, yelling Mitch's name at the top of his lungs.

"Uh," Zach says, eyes wide.

"Shit, fuck, I muted my phone when you got here," Mitch says, alarmed. "Dylan! Kitchen! I'm fine, holy shit, I'm sorry—"

"Mitchy," Dylan says, bursting into the kitchen and stopping half an inch at most from crashing into the side of Mitch's chair. "Jesus fucking christ, Mitchy, I thought maybe you fell again—"

"I'm fine, I'm sorry," Mitch says, guilt creeping up his spine. He reaches out and grabs Dylan's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Zach stopped by with the books, and we got caught up in talking work stuff. I had my phone on silent, and I just lost track of time."

Dylan exhales and it's like the strings holding him up go slack; he bows his head and swears under his breath, and Mitch tugs until Dylan bends over and gives him an actual hug. "I freaked out, I'm sorry," Dylan mutters.

"I'm sorry I turned my phone off after this morning," Mitch replies. "Especially after I told you to call me after practice. I'm so sorry I scared you."

"Hey, uh," Zach says, and Dylan pulls back and turns to face him.

"Jesus, sorry," he says, laughing a little. "I'm Dylan Strome. You're Zach Hyman, right?"

"Yeah," Zach says, eyes wide as Dylan holds out a hand to shake. "Uh. I can… I should go?"

"Dude, no, not if you guys were in the middle of something," Dylan says, shaking his head. "I'll call Willy and—"

"Stromer," someone yells, banging on the door. "Is Mitchy okay?"

Mitch groans and carefully lays his head on the table. "Let me guess. You told some of the guys that I had a bad morning, and then you ran out of practice like the building was on fire."

"I mean, I didn't _not_ do that," Dylan says, shrugging a little.

"Is that William Nylander?" Zach asks.

"Probably Brownie, too," Dylan says, shaking his head and heading for the door. "Uh. Connor Brown."

"I'm fine," Mitch yells when Dylan opens the door. "Take your centre out for a drink. He needs to unwind after what I put him through today."

Brownie appears a moment later, and he might not have been on Mitch's team when they were kids, but they've still known each other for long enough that Mitch can pick out the lines of relief on his face when he sees for himself that Mitch is okay. "Hey, man."

"Zach, Brownie," Mitch says. "Brownie, this is Zach Hyman."

"Today is not going how I thought it would go," Zach deadpans as he shakes Brownie's hand, and Mitch just has to laugh.

-0-

Mitch's initial revisions on the Tumblr proposal go over… about as well as he thought they would, which is to say that some of them are accepted outright, but most come back to him with requests for more information, so Mitch gives up and calls in backup.

"Mitch!" Sasky answers, sounding thrilled to hear from him. "How's my favourite intern?"

"Here to beg for favours again," Mitch replies, leaning back in his chair. He's back to careful cane usage today, and it's been going well, if a little more slow-paced than normal. "I'm trying to pitch Tumblr to the team, and I'm working with Colin, and—"

Sasky groans. "Don't even tell me," she says. "In fact, get Colin off the internet. Put him back on radio detail. He's going to find fanfiction, and then you'll have to hear him trying to explain it to Steve and Scott."

"Oh my god," Mitch says. He can't help his grin. "I bet there's still some of the stuff about me and Dylan from juniors out there."

"There is," Sasky confirms cheerily. "Some of it's quite good, actually."

"Oh my god," Mitch says again, laughing. "Anyway. Any ideas on how to pitch Tumblr to someone who spells 'emoji' with two Es at the end?"

Sasky bursts into laughter, and Mitch is so, so glad he met her while he was interning with the Furies. She's fun and bright, but she's also never begrudged Mitch his bad physical or mental days, and he's grateful to know that she's in his corner even though they're not working together anymore. "Patience," she says. "I'll trade you helping on that for a promise of some cross-promotion for the CWHL all-stars leading up to our game."

"Done," Mitch says instantly. "As if I wasn't going to ask you for those promos anyway."

"Promises are gold in this business," she replies. "Now I've got you on the hook for them, intentions or no. I'll think about it and get back to you, and we should do lunch soon to talk it over."

"Perfect," Mitch says, relieved. "You're a lifesaver, Sasky."

"I am," she agrees, laughing. "I'll email you. Bring me a donut."

"Will do," he says, smiling as they hang up.

There's a knock on his door almost as soon as he finishes, and he looks up to find Zach. "Hey," he says warmly. "How's it going? Sorry about the, uh, hockey player invasion last night. It kind of happens. Occupational hazard, but like, not my occupation."

"No, it was fine," Zach says, smiling briefly. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, and something in Mitch's stomach drops. "I stayed up kinda late last night, and I finished the draft. Take your time with editing and everything, obviously, but I wanted to get it to you before the weekend, since it's done."

"Oh, wow," Mitch says, leaning forward to take the USB drive Zach passes him. "D'you want to go over it with me? I don't know, is that a thing you do, or is that weird?"

"I, uh," Zach says, giving Mitch the same half-hearted smile. "Look, I probably… shouldn't."

"Oh," Mitch says, sitting back in his chair. "That's… okay, that's fine." He smiles and tries to not let it look disappointed. "Thanks for bringing it by, I guess. And for spending the afternoon with me yesterday. That was… really nice."

"Um," Zach says, swallowing. "I didn't mean to…" He sighs as he trails off, then steps further into Mitch's office. "I didn't realise I was, like, intruding? And then when Dylan came home…"

Mitch frowns. "I know. It was kind of a lot, but I turned off—"

"No, I know, you explained," Zach cuts in. "It's just—look, okay, I was… I was kind of flirting with you yesterday?"

"Um," Mitch says, trying not to let his jaw drop. He can feel his cheeks going pink. "You… were?"

Zach laughs, a quiet, almost rueful sound. "Yeah. I get why you didn't notice, though. You and Dylan seem super solid."

"Oh my god," Mitch says, closing his eyes. "It's not… can you shut the door? Please?"

"What?"

"The door," Mitch repeats. "So I can explain… all of that."

"You don't owe me an explanation," Zach says quickly. "It's totally fine—"

"—except it's not at all what you're thinking, I swear," Mitch says. "Please."

Zach hesitates for a moment, but then he shuts the door. He walks to one of the chairs and sits. "You really don't have to explain anything," he says again, but this time he sounds a little… hopeful, maybe.

"I'm not dating Dylan," Mitch says. It's probably the best place to start. "He's in a really great, awesome long-term thing with someone else. He and I have never dated, have never been interested in dating, and never will."

"Um," Zach says, blinking. "Okay? I think?"

Mitch sighs. "He's my best friend," he says. "Except, like. Extra best friend. It's kind of hard to explain, to be honest with you, but you're not even close to the first person who thought we were together."

"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or not," Zach says, smiling a little.

"I can get Dylan and Brownie and Auston Matthews himself in here to promise you I'm telling the truth if it would help," Mitch says, smiling back tentatively.

"It's not that I don't believe you," Zach says, shaking his head a little. "It's just that I'm not sure how to reconcile knowing that with yesterday in the kitchen, I guess."

"It's like," Mitch says, frowning a little and looking down at his keyboard. "We call each other 'best friend life partners,' and it's kind of a joke but also kind of isn't. If there was friend-marriage, he'd be my person, hands down." He sighs a little. "We're really, really important to each other, and Dylan's partner gets it because they saw the whole thing happen from the beginning, but I know it can be a little… jarring, if you don't know what's going on."

"You can say that again," Zach says, but when Mitch looks up, he's smiling. "Best friend life partners, huh?"

"We're a platonic married couple who will never sleep together or get actually married," Mitch says, shrugging a little. "If you want the really sappy hockey explanation that Dylan's partner came up with, I can give it to you, but you can never unhear it."

"Oh, now I have to know," Zach says. "I'll die from curiosity."

Mitch laughs; part of him can't believe he's actually about to tell this to someone, but the rest of his brain is going _you like him enough to share this, so maybe…_ "You said Dyls was your favorite player, and that you Googled me. You remember what OHL teams we were on?"

"Erie and London," Zach says instantly.

"Right," Mitch says, nodding. "So, like. He's my significant otter, and I'm his best knight." His face is kind of burning, but Zach's laughing a little and smiling so, so wide. "It's so corny, I know."

"It's sweet," Zach contradicts, still smiling. "So, uh, Dylan has a partner."

"He does," Mitch confirms. "I'm giving you zero details, though, so—"

"No, no, I wouldn't ask," Zach says, holding a hand up. "Just. You said he did, but you didn't say whether or not you did."

Mitch can feel color rising to his face. "Uh. No, I… definitely don't."

"Okay, good to know," Zach says, giving him the brilliant smile that Mitch had noticed the first time they met. "Would you maybe want to get dinner with me sometime soon? Completely not work-related at all, just so we're clear about this?"

Mitch smiles back. "I'd love to."

-0-

"Oh my gosh," someone shrieks, and Mitch grins from his spot at the book booth as a little girl, probably six or seven years old, walks up to Carlton. Carlton waves gamely, then points at the book she's holding and then the big bear paw stamp that Mitch had gotten made, then back to the book.

"Mommy," the girl says, "Mommy, Mommy, can Carlton sign my book?"

The woman standing in front of the book booth laughs. "Sure, sweetie. Ask nicely."

Carlton does his thing, and Mitch is glad that they'd practiced this with some of the Leafs' kids beforehand. It was a little awkward for Jason, the guy in the suit, to handle the stamp and the books at first, but he does it easily now, putting blue ink on the stamp and then having the girl point to where she wants his signature. Mitch is talking to parents and putting photo after photo on Snapchat, getting video when it's allowed. The girl's mom had signed all the paperwork, so Mitch follows her with his phone as she thanks Carlton and carries her book to Zach, who's sitting next to Carlton.

"You wrote the best books in the whole wide world," she informs him. "My gramma gave me _Hockey Hero_ for Hanukkah, and then you wrote a Carlton book!"

"I did," Zach agrees, smiling at her. "Do you want me to sign your book, too? Just like Carlton did?"

"Yes, please," she says, and Mitch clicks his phone off as she hands it over.

"Whoever thought of this was a genius," the girl's mom remarks, watching as Zach talks to the girl, nodding seriously when she points at a spot next to the paw stamp and spells out her name. "He's so great with kids, and his books are adorable."

Mitch smiles at her. "You should make sure to say that on the way out," he says. "Specifically to the guy with the Leafs polo near the entrance, about 6'2", really thin hair? Tell him all about how I'm a genius again."

The woman laughs. "You did good," she says. "Are there going to be more, or was this a one-off?"

"We've got plans," Mitch says, grinning at her. "We're not ready to announce anything for sure yet, but look for something new around the start of the season or a little after that." The second book is all about the value of teamwork, and it's completely written and edited; the woman doing the illustrations is working her way through it now, and Mitch has already gotten her to promise that he can buy the drawing she's doing of Dylan and Carlton doing passing drills. He's going to frame it and give it to Davo for Christmas, and he absolutely can't wait.

"Chentelle's gonna be thrilled," the woman says, laughing a little. "We got her signed up for a learn-to-skate program, and she's already talking about how she's going to play for the Furies someday."

"Tell her to keep working on it, and I'll tell Sasky Stewart to put in a good word for her," Mitch replies.

"You know _Sasky Stewart?_ " Chentelle yells from way closer than she was last time Mitch looked her way. She's right next to the book booth now, looking at Mitch like he's the Stanley Cup. "She's so cool!"

"She is the absolute coolest," Mitch confirms, smiling. "I heard you want to play for the Furies. If you do, you'll get to meet her."

"Really?" Chentelle asks, clearly in awe. "I might get to meet Sasky Stewart?"

"Really really," Mitch says. "So keep skating, okay? Listen to your coaches."

"Okay, I will," she replies, taking her mom's hand and beaming at Mitch. "Mommy, can we go practice skating?"

"We'll see," her mom says, laughing as they walk towards the exit.

"Making friends for Sasky?" Zach asks, resting his hand on Mitch's shoulder. There's nobody in line for the signing right now, and Zach has been wandering over all day when he has a minute.

Mitch turns to smile up at him. "I mean, I'm not gonna tell kids that they _can't_ meet Sasky Stewart."

Zach laughs. "There's gonna be a boom in players trying out for the Furies in a decade," he predicts. "All the Sasky adoration."

"And the Leafs," Mitch adds. "Everyone who grew up with their beloved Carlton books."

Zach's smile goes soft around the edges. "All because of you."

"I mean, you get at least a little of the credit," Mitch says. "At least fifteen percent. Maybe twenty."

"And here I thought we were equal partners in all of this," Zach says, laughing.

Mitch reaches out so he can take Zach's hand and squeeze it. "Yeah, okay, I can give you half of the credit," he says generously, voice serious but a smile on his face. "I guess your name's on the book or whatever."

"So's yours," Zach reminds him. "Dedications count."

"You're such a sap," Mitch says softly, bringing Zach's hand to his lips so he can press a kiss to the back of it. "Hey. I have an idea."

"Oh?"

"Let's get dinner when we're done here," Mitch says.

"Solid idea," Zach says.

"And then tomorrow, too," Mitch says. "And, like, the day after that. Keep penciling me in, okay?"

"You booking up all my time, Marner?" Zach asks, smiling at him. "I'm a busy guy sometimes. Book signings, you know. People tell me I'm kind of a big deal."

"Stop listening to William Nylander," Mitch says, and Zach laughs, bright and loud in their corner of the bookstore. "And yeah. I'm booking up as much of your time as you'll let me have, Hyman, so what are you gonna do about it?"

Zach smiles and leans down to kiss Mitch, in front of Steve and the whole bookstore and Carlton. "Eat a lot of dinners with this guy I'm pretty into, I guess."

"As long as I'm invited, too, that sounds good," Mitch says, and they're both smiling when Mitch pulls Zach back in.

**Author's Note:**

> -spoilery warning notes: in this story, mitch had a career-ending injury in juniors that left him using a cane to walk on good days and a wheelchair on bad days. there's a scene that deals with him falling. he has a good support system in place, and no further permanent injury happens in the story. there is no graphic description of injury or treatment at any point.
> 
> -mitch's injury happened during the tail end of the 2013-14 season. he and dylan had played together in the hockey challenge the year before the draft, and it happened about a month after they got back.
> 
> -colin, steve, and scott are all names of dudes who work in the leafs' media relations department. there is also a guy named chris who didn't get name-dropped in the story. i don't know if i can think of a more "middle-aged white guy" group of names. nobody is shocked, i'm sure.
> 
> -(ps, unrelated to this story, i... found... stephane robidas? he works for the leafs in player development?? HE LIIIIIIVES)
> 
> -the 2015 draft went connor mcdavid, jack eichel, lawson crouse, dylan strome, noah hanifin. i mean, the yotes did trade for crouser, so...
> 
> there are easily ten things i had to cut out of this for time and length. a quick rundown of deleted scenes:  
> -mitch going skating with dylan. this happens with the help of a rolling office chair and freddie andersen's goalie leg pads.  
> -connor mcdavid calling to have mitch time, because they're friends, and also mitch is dylan's Person, so he's important to connor, too.  
> -the look on zach's face when he's introduced to dylan's partner. he figured it was a guy because of the pronoun/name game, but holy shit is he not prepared for that revelation.  
> -mitch and sasky getting drinks at least twice a month and trading social media horror stories.  
> -a whole bunch of stuff that happens with the whole team. mitch has a lot of interactions with them as he gets more and more responsibility within his department; he runs the snapchat and, eventually, their tumblr and insta, and he manages to win control over their twitter when colin retires. there was much rejoicing. mostly from colin, who never does get the hang of those dang emogees.  
> -dylan breaking into legit hysterical laughter out of nowhere one night, about six months after mitch and zach start dating, and mitch only being able to understand dylan wheezing something about mitch's wedding and carlton having to be there.  
> -mitch gives the drawing of dylan and carlton to connor for christmas and it's the cutest thing ever until ten minutes later when mitch opens his present from dylan and it's a drawing by the same artist, mitch and zach eating lunch together at the restaurant where they had their first meeting, carlton showing as a reflection in the window as if he's at the table with them. mitch cries so much that connor takes the picture away so he doesn't make the ink run.
> 
> -follow me on [tumblr](http://somehowunbroken.tumblr.com), where i run largely on queue these days, on on [twitter](https://twitter.com/somehowunbroken), where i've been much more active!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Throw those curtains wide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593905) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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